Waves
by AlibasterStranger
Summary: Bessie and Joey Potter had a life that came crashing down in painful, public glory. They grow, change, and move forward while building relationships and burning bridges.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

I haven't written in a while and need to just write without all that baggage of coming up with new characters. I've always been slightly fascinated with the Potter family dynamics and felt like there could have been more development if screen time was prioritized differently. This may be marginally A/U, we'll see. I know where I'm going but don't have all the details of how I'll get there. Alas, enjoy.

Of course, I don't claim ownership to characters or settings.

* * *

**Waves**

**Chapter 1**

Twenty year old Bessie looked tiredly at the pile of dishes in the sink by the window, the tension in her shoulders sending waves of slight pain through her spine. As much as she appreciated the casseroles, she thought, it would certainly be nice if people remembered the family had a restaurant with an industrial dishwasher and didn't somehow make more work for her. And the indignation with which Joey would preach against paper plates and the three Rs was more annoying than the extra time late at night at the sink. She pulled her hair back into a bun and turned on the radio on the counter, humming quietly to herself as The Cranberries filled the kitchen, not loudly enough to disturb her sleeping mother or sister, and not so loudly that she wouldn't hear her father pull into the driveway.

After she stuck the last dish in the drying rack, she poured some bleach in the sink and filled it again with hot water. She took care to wipe down everything, a prayer to keep any germs from making her immune-compromised mother sicker than she was. As she wiped the fixtures, she saw lights flood the window and sighed heavily. He would be in a bad mood, and she really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. With how he couldn't deal with their life, so there she was. Two semesters of college under her belt and she was stuck back in Capeside doing what needed to be done because he wouldn't.

"Is there any dinner left?" Mike asked as he kicked his shoes off by the mat.

"I already cleaned the kitchen and packed the leftovers for Joey's lunch," Bessie replied, trying to walk past him so she should go to the couch and review for her econ test at the community college.

"Didn't think I'd be hungry?"

"I thought you'd eat at the restaurant. There's peanut butter and bread. Just don't leave anything in the sink. I just got the dishes done and everything bleached."

"I work there, I'd like to eat when I'm home," he grumbled. "I'm burning it at both ends, Bessie."

"We all are," Bessie said, tiredly, seeing the smudge of pink on his collar. Her mother was dying. Surely, he could wait a few months so she was gone first. "I'm going to study for a bit and get to bed."

"I need you to be at the restaurant tomorrow for lunch. I have to meet some people about some things," he said, taking a clean plate from the rack and looking for the bread.

"We need to stop being open for lunch, Dad. There isn't money in it. We're bleeding money on staff," she answered back.

"We need people in the door."

"We need to stop throwing money away when we don't have any."

"You've seen the books," he countered.

"I see the till at the end of the shifts" she replied. She didn't want to have this conversation, she didn't want to know where the extra that was showing up in the account was from. "We don't even break even most day with lunch, and dinner isn't great either. Won't be until after the regatta."

"It's coming in."

"But where?" she asked, and immediately regretted it and left the room. He didn't follow.

She peeked into her sister's room. Sure enough, she wasn't there. The first time it happened, she had called the police, certain another tragedy had befallen the family. But she was found, safe and sound and drowsy from sleep at Dawson's. How she had yelled at her little sister, who stood there and looked like a shell. When she finally piped down and got tired of reprimand, Joey had quietly told her that it felt normal there. That Gail would make dinner, and Mitch would build a fire for marshmallows, and it was happy. And in that moment, Bessie wanted to be there to. She wanted to be anywhere but where she was.

Her alarm clock sounded too soon and she considered briefly hitting snooze, but remembered her econ exam and the morning routine that had to happen if she was to get there on time. She walked to the kitchen. The plate with peanut butter and crumbs was placed in the sink with a dirty paper towel, and she could see her father asleep on the couch with a few cans of Milwaukee's Best carelessly scattered on the table, some cigarettes in an ash tray taken from the restaurant. She pressed the button on the coffee machine, and went to the cabinet for her mom's morning course of medication. She sliced a banana into a bowl and heated some water in a kettle for peppermint tea. When it whistled, she poured it into her mom's favorite cup and slowly carried the tray down the small hallway to her mother's room. She nudged the door open and saw she was still. She froze for a moment, she always did and after a few seconds saw her chest rise. She gently shook her thin shoulder.

"Mom, come on. Start to wake up, okay?" she said softly. "Here's some breakfast. I'm going to wake up Joey and then I'll help get you ready for your appointment."

She smiled at her mom as her gray eyes opened and she took in the sun through the curtains.

"Another exciting day," Lillian said, with a wry smile. "Thank you for getting me out the door."

"You're welcome. Take your pills and I'll be right back."

She walked next door, and saw her sister had returned in the night. Sometimes she spent the whole night over there. Other times, she would come home. Bessie knew she was afraid to stay gone in case something happened with their mom. She and Joey often crossed paths quietly in their mother's room at all hours of the night, the sound of her breath reassuring them that things were still, in some abstract, strange way, okay. That they still had her. She also knew that the twelve year old was exhausted from her late nights and lack of sleep, but she had just accepted that none of the Potter women were going to feel refreshed for some time.

"Kid, time to get up. I need to get you to school on time so Mom can be at the hospital on schedule," Bessie said, sitting on the quilt and rubbing the younger girl's back. Joey tried to pull the blankets around her tighter and roll into a ball. Bessie patted her harder. "Get up. Get dressed. Grab some cereal. Now."

"I hate you," said the mock petulant voice of her sister, Bessie let out a small chuckle and left the room.

"Feeling is mutual, kid. Come on."

She pulled on her favorite pair of jeans, a pair of loose denim with patches that she had gotten a couple years prior and a purple tee shirt. She smoothed the fabric before grabbing her worn flannel and sitting down to pull on her boots. She kept work clothes at the restaurant. Being able to separate herself from that mess in a physical way had helped her a lot. Plus not smelling like fried clams all the time was great.

She helped her mom into a soft linen dress and knit sweater, before gently working a bright scarf around the soft, dry skin of her head. Even with the hell her body had been through over the past nine months, Lillian still was the most beautiful woman Bessie had ever seen. She had a regal dignity about her, something that make up and clothes would never be able to replicate. Her mother pulled her in for a gentle hug, before thanking her. She knew that her mom hated that she had come home, hated that it had to be that way. She knew Lillian was disappointed in her father's behavior and grateful for everything. She didn't resent her mom. Not for even a minute on the hardest day.

Joey was in the kitchen washing her bowl, then the plate that lingered from the night before. Mike was still asleep on the sofa, unaware of the movement of his family to start their day. She put away the plates and other dishes from the rack, quietly at first as to not disturb him, but then clattering them in, louder and louder still. The desire for him to wake up, to be disturbed, to be inconvenienced growing for reasons she didn't entirely understand. She wanted him to be the one to wake her up in the morning. She wanted to actually see him awake. She wanted to see him kiss her mother on the side of her head, the way he did when it had been covered in smooth chestnut colored waves. He suddenly flung himself to a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes before looking around, his forehead creased with annoyance.

"What the hell is that noise? I'm trying to get some goddamned sleep!" he yelled, his glassy eyes finally meeting with his youngest daughter. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I'm just helping put the dishes away," she snapped back. "I assumed everyone would be awake."

"You could see I wasn't," he growled, clearly debating whether or not to move his body from

the couch.

"Guess I didn't really care," she replied, turning on heel and walking out the kitchen door towards the creek.

"Joey!" he yelled. "Get back here!"

With that, Bessie walked behind Lillian through the living room. Bessie stopped and looked at her bleary eyed father who was clearly feeling the effects of the night before.

"What's wrong?"

"That girl's attitude," he said, before throwing himself back onto the sofa.

"Mike, you need to be patient with her," Lillian said, softly.

"You need to stop babying her," he replied, placing his arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. Bessie looked at her mom, who choose to continue her slow walk to the back where the station wagon was parked. She helped her get comfortably into the seat, before walking down the dock

to retrieve her sister.

"You pissed off Dad?" she asked. Joey stopped throwing rocks and nodded. "What did you do?"

"I was putting away the dishes and might have been a bit louder than I needed to be. But I don't see why he's just in there laying around. Why he's not the one helping Mom? I just thought he needed to wake up too," Joey said, her voice occasionally high, sometimes cracking, fighting back tears.

"Thanks for getting the dishes. And it would be great if he was willing to do that stuff, Jo. But he's not. And Mom deserves someone who will do it because it is the right thing, because it is what she deserves after all this time of taking care of us. I don't want him to do it just to get you off his back," Bessie said, putting her arm around Joey. She couldn't believe that her sister was as tall as she was, coming above her shoulders. In pictures from high school graduation, eighteen months prior, Joey still looked very much the little girl. "You okay?"

"As okay as I'm going to be," Joey sighed. "What appointment is it today?"

"Chemo," Bessie said. "She will see her oncologist Friday to see where we're at. Honestly, Jo?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it is going to be good news."

"I know."

"Come on. Let's get you to school." Bessie said, and guided her back to the car. Bessie ducked in to grab Joey's backpack and lunch, and saw her father was sleeping again. They set off for their day.

Joey sat on the steps in front of Capeside Middle School, waiting for the doors to open and for Dawson and Pacey to show up. Bessie always dropped her as early as the school really allowed on appointment days in order to get to the hospital then get to school. She looked through her bag and scanned her science book. She had a feeling there would be a quiz. She couldn't seem to shake the anger that had welled up in her earlier. Both at her father and at Bessie for letting him get away with it. She knew her sister had a lot on her plate, but she also felt like she could do things differently, that if she would just speak up for them, it would get better. She thought about what her sister had said. She didn't think there would be any good news. There hadn't been any good news since last August when Lillian had told her that she was sick. That she had breast cancer. Then that it had metastasized to her bones. Then to her lungs. And most recently, that there were lisons in her brain. Lesions that sometimes made her confused, that made her angry. That made her not the mom she desperately wanted to remember. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, and she willed them away as she saw two boys on bikes riding towards the school. They knew, of course, about her mom. The whole town did. But she didn't talk about it with them. Not often. Not when she could avoid it. With them, she escaped. With them, she could be normal. She could pretend life was like it used to be. Like it was when she was younger and her parents were bursting with pride at the opening of the Ice House. Like when they would drive up the coast to Maine and camp in state parks. Like when she caught her parents kissing and pressed against each other in the storage room of the restaurant on her tenth birthday, and her mother flushed red and her father buried his face in her hair. Like when they hugged Bessie and waved as they dropped her off at her dorm room with new everything.

They knew how it used to be. Them knowing made it easier to be real.

Bessie gulped as she looked over the pages of her test. Though she thought she knew it last night, everything looked foreign. It just didn't make sense, and dread flooded her. She was taking out loans to pay for this. If she didn't do well, it was a waste. She couldn't transfer the credit back to U Mass when...well, when her mom was dead and they didn't need her help any more. She felt a pang of guilt and pushed it back. No. Her mom had been talking to her about college, about grades, about making something of herself for as long as she could remember. Not going back as soon as she could we be disrespectful to all her mom had tried to instill. She sighed. This horrible econ course was a learning experience. It was teaching her that the wonderful world of business and economics are not for her and she should perhaps look into something else. Maybe psychology or environmental science.

Mike Potter groaned as he rolled himself off the sofa. Perhaps he shouldn't have had so much to drink the night before, but it was the only way sleep was going to find him. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed the remaining banana off the counter. His head throbbed and he took a few advil from the bottle on the window frame. He had to meet Dan in the small warehouse district near downtown for a delivery. Maybe then he could go ahead and pay off the loan that Bessie had taken for her time at U Mass. It would make it easier when she started back. He knew he had to pay the hospital some, collections had been calling non-stop. He selfishly hoped that she would fall into the lull of the small town she had grown up in. That she would stay and offer reprieve, that she would stay and he wouldn't be a single dad. That she would stay, and he would still have most of his family together, even though the one he had always held most dear would be gone. A pang of guilt. After meeting Dan, he was going by Marisa's house. They hadn't gotten the chance to have much time together the night before at the restaurant, and he had known it would be more trouble if he didn't make it home. So Dan's, Marisa's, and then he would go by the bank and the hospital's financial office and lighten the load a bit for his oldest. Maybe he'd pick Lillian up some flowers and he could help her down to the dock. Maybe they could talk and forget some of the nightmare. He poured a small splash of vodka into his orange juice and drank it quickly, grabbing his keys from the rack.

He slowed his old pick up as he drove past the yellow blinking light for the school zone in front of Capeside Middle. Some students were still out front. He scanned for Joey's dark hair and lime green backpack, but didn't see her. Not that he really knew what to say if he did see her. He knew that he'd been a jerk yelling at her this morning. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, she had ever reason to be angry at him. Hell, if she knew he was peddling drugs into the the small town, if she was messing around on her mom...no. She'd be mad, but he was furious at himself. He hadn't seen the slippery slope, but now he just had to figure out a way through it and he would deal with the guilt later.

He stopped at the red light, one of the few traffic signals in town, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw one of the sheriff department's cars behind him. The light turned green and he rolled through the intersection. He let out his breath when the car turned right. He then chuckled to himself, Dan had been at this a long time without any trouble. It was okay.

Lillian leaned back, trying to get comfortable in the reclined chair as drugs dripped slowly into the port in her chest. She was doing this for the girls. Because she wanted them to know that she had fought, that she hadn't just given up. One more treatment after today and she would be done. She wouldn't come back to the hospital. She had talked to a social worker from the hospice program. They would give her medication as needed to keep her comfortable. She could have an IV to help keep her hydrated, the was little in the world she hated more than being thirsty. They would be there for the girls. A nurse could come and help her bathe instead of Bessie. She could have a hospital bed placed in the living room near the window that looked over the creek. She could spend the time she had left looking over the water that was as much part of her as the blood in her veins. She could watch the girls do their homework at the table. And she could see Mike as he came and went with barely a word, only a forlorn glance and guilty half smile.

His distance was the deepest betrayal she could imagine. They had promised each other their lives, sickness and health. And shortly after the cancer diagnosis came, he had checked out. He stopped sleeping in their bed with the quilt she had sewn him for her wedding gift after he came home smelling of cheap perfume. The scent had lingered in her chemo sensitive nose, haunting her. She knew, knew that he had already given up on her. She knew that he wouldn't be there for her in the end, and she thanked the universe that she had her daughters. That Bessie had come home without being asked. That Joey sat with her every afternoon to tell her about her day. That even when betrayed she wasn't alone. Part of her wanted to have it out, to have an epic battles to end all battles to end what had been their epic journey of romance. But she didn't have it in her. She didn't have the energy to walk into the Ice House and quip with the woman who would have ruined their marriage had cancer not already. And she a part of her, a tiny part, hoped that Mike found comfort with her. She hoped that she kept him warm when she couldn't. Held his hand when he realized that their limited time together was over.

Mitch would be picking her up when her appointments were done. At least her friends were still there.

Mike pulled into the lot of the warehouse. Dan was using it for custom woodwork, but that was mostly a front. Jobs seldom came, and when they did were often turned away. He saw Dan's sedan, and a jeep that he was unfamiliar with. A knot formed in his stomach, but he shook it off. Dan knew what he was doing, he always had. While what they were doing was illegal, Dan wouldn't put him in a place of risk. Not with Lillian. Not with the girls. He walked in, the bell on the door chimed and he headed into the back room where he saw Dan, a lean man with a persistent dark afternoon shadow and thinning hair and sallow skin beside a short, stocky man with dreadlocks and a goatee. Both men looked up at him.

"George, this is Mike. He'll be getting the product out. He has some kitchen staff that distribute," Dan said, and Mike shook the other man's hand. "Mike, this is George. He works for some people I know getting us what we need."

"Nice to know you," Mike said, swallowing. "So, you got the stuff?"

"Yeah. Here. It isn't the greatest, but sure as hell is better than the other stuff floating around," Dan answered, opening a cabinet and pointing at the neatly packaged blocks of powder. "Let's break these down, and you'll be ready to go."

He pulled some scales out and dropped a bundle on the table. Mike pulled a box of bags from the shelf. George lingered until Dan pulled a chair out and told him to sit.

Bessie pulled the car into the small gravel lot of the Ice House. It was almost 10:30, she should have already been getting things in order, but alas, life had other plans. She saw Ester walking in. Ester had worked as a waitress since the restaurant opened, and the older woman had been the source of immense support since Lillian stopped coming in, despite the wages being less than stellar. She didn't see Bodie's bike, but it wasn't unusual for him to be late starting the day. He always pulled it together.

"Bessie, I need to talk to you," Ester said, her aged faced full of anxiety. Bessie fumbled with the keys and opened the door, flipping on the open sign. No one would be in for at least half an hour.

"What is it?" she asked as she checked the host stand to make sure that silverware had in fact been wrapped the night before.

"I'm giving notice. I accepted a new position," Ester said, her voice shaking. Bessie looked at the woman. Ester was in her late fifties with gray streaking her mousy brown hair which she always wore in a long braid down her back. She always wore her uniform, a white polo and red apron, neat and pressed, unlike a lot of the staff that tended to look like they had just rolled out of bed. "It's just...we've got bills. And Martie's disability case is dragging. The taxes have gone up on the house again, and my back...I don't have insurance and they keep nagging me about surgery. I just..."

"I understand, Ester," Bessie returned, exhaustion flooding her before the work day had even started. "You know I'd pay you more if there was the money to be had. Business has gone down the tubes since Mom stopped working. Thank you for giving notice and not just not coming in."

"I know. I don't want to leave you in a jam. None of you," the older woman said, taking Bessie's hand. "If you get someone in soon, I'll be sure to be the one to train them. That way maybe it will go better than some of those yahoos your dad has been bringing through."

"I appreciate that," Bessie smiled. "I'm going to get some coffee started. Can you be sure the tables were checked last night? I think Bodie said the special was going to be catfish today. $6.99, two sides and a drink."

"I'll write it on the board," she said, and started to work as Bessie went back to the kitchen.

There was a knock at the back entrance to the kitchen that caused Bessie to jump and spill coffee grounds onto the counter. She really didn't understand why the kitchen staff wouldn't just use the front door like everyone else. Bodie had said something about kitchen culture, but she was pretty sure he was bullshitting her. She opened the door and saw Fred, a guy that her dad had hired who Bodie said was a waste of space. But at least he was a waste of space that was on time.

"Bodie's not in yet, so if you can start setting up the line, that'd be great," Bessie told him. "Special is catfish."

"What should I do?"

"I know he's shown you how to set up," Bessie said, crossing her arms. This was not what she wanted to deal with. She had never been back of house and really did not feel up to attempting to walk him through it.

"Yeah."

"Well, do that."

"Is Mike here?" he asked, looking around the kitchen.

"No, Bodie's in the kitchen today. He should be here-" she started, just as the cook rushed through the door looking frazzled. "Nice of you to show up."

"Sorry, Bessie. I got tangled up with my landlord. Roommate apparently took my check but didn't pay the rent," Bodie said, hurriedly. He washed his hands at the sink near the dishwasher, and looked around. "Fred, what are you standing there for?"

Bessie sighed, and returned to making the coffee before leaving the kitchen for the small office where she stored some clothes. She quickly changed and set to drawing up sections, one for Ester, one for her, and one for another server.

When her parents had opened the place about six years earlier, she had been so excited at the prospect of working there. While her mom had always wanted to run a bed and breakfast, Capeside real estate for something like that was way out of the family's reach. When the previous business, an independent hardware store that Lillian had worked closed down, the bereaved widow of the owner had given the Potters a very fair deal. She had just wanted to see the property cared for and had known Lillian and Mike since childhood. Mike and Lillian had spent the summer renovating the place after work while Bessie kept an eye on Joey in the construction mess or in the park. They had their grand opening on August first, their wedding anniversary. It had been packed and for the first time she could remember, her parents were able to say yes without scrambling to pull resources from elsewhere. Yes to her trying out for field hockey. Yes when she asked for designer jeans. Yes for the ninth grade trip the advanced placement kids took to Boston. Yes to new dresses for homecoming and the winter formal. Yes, yes, yes.

Lillian leaned back in the seat of Mitch's car, slightly queasy and tired, but really no worse for the wear. The Leery family had been the source of tremendous support, not just recently, but for at least a decade. She felt Mitch looking at her, so she turned her head and smiled.

"Anywhere you want to go?" he asked, switching off the radio.

"Hmm, MOMA?" she replied. She felt wistful, a slight melancholy longing in her chest that seemed amplified by the pruned bushes in the hospital's outpatient lot. "Or the Boston library? Oh, I would love to get another visit there."

"I've got the chair in the back," Mitch replied.

His mother had died a few years back, and he hadn't gotten to getting rid of everything yet. Gail had reminded him a few months ago that he had her wheelchair in the attic and that it might come in handy while they helped their friend get to and from appointments, and maybe even out on the town. Sometimes, Lillian would have them take her to town, through a bookstore or the diner. He knew that Bessie tried, but she was stretched thinner than any young person should be. And Mike had gone from a doting husband to someone that Mitch didn't recognize. He was jumpy, elusive, and most importantly, not present. Mitch had tried cornering him, but he quickly saw that it made things worse. According to Gail, after he tried talking to him, he started sleeping on the couch.

"Actually, yes. I'd like to go by that stationary store near the market. I want to get together some letters for the girls to have. You know, birthdays, weddings, babies, all that good stuff. Make sure I'm there," Lillian said.

"You might..."

"No, Mitch. This isn't a might anymore," she cut in, her voice soft but steady. He patted her hand before putting the card in reverse and heading down the familiar roads of Capeside.

"Do they know what is happening?"

"I have an oncology consult later this week, but I'm not counting on any improvement. They said a couple weeks ago with treatment, I might see the end of the summer. But I think the treatment is making it worse. I don't want my time to be like this," Lillian answered. She tried to avoid discussing the details as much as possible with her girls. They knew to an extent. Bessie knew her meds, knew her routine and the risks. She knew she would have to tell them soon, but she wanted to get them through the end of the semester with some hope. It was funny, it felt good to sit next to someone and just tell them that she wasn't long for the world.

Joey sighed and filed in the bubbles on her answer sheet. The classroom seemed cold, despite the school not having any air conditioning and it being a picturesque spring day. She was glad that the room was quiet and that she had something to focus on. She tugged once on her ponytail that seemed to be getting looser and bit her lip.

Usually, she liked tests. She liked the ones they took at the end of the year. They would be inside all morning doing them, then they would be released early in the day. There would be a week of

not a lot of real work and class parties, maybe a video or two, then it was summer.

Two summers ago, she had finally gotten permission from her parents to row across the water to Dawson's alone, with the promise that was where she would go and she would always wear her life jacket. She loved it. But she wasn't looking forward to this summer. She wasn't looking forward to sitting on her hands and being told she was too young to help in the restaurant when she knew it wasn't doing well. She wasn't looking forward to the lump in her throat that formed whenever she would peek into her mother's room at night. She wasn't looking forward to her dad ignoring them and leaving his beer cans everywhere. She wasn't looking forward to watching her sister look longingly at the Amherst calendar that hung on the refrigerator or her short remarks about being stuck there.

For the first time she could remember, she wasn't looking forward to summer vacation. She looked up at the clock. There was another hour to go, then they would turn in their science tests. Math and english would later in the week, but today they would be allowed to leave. She glanced over to where Dawson sat. They were going to swing by the restaurant after the test and get Bessie to give them milkshakes and hush puppies.

Mike Potter tossed a duffel bag in the passenger side of the truck and glanced back at the warehouse. He heard sirens and tensed for a moment before realizing that they were coming from an ambulance. He thought about going by to see Marisa, but decided against it. He didn't want the stuff in his car any longer than it had to be. He rolled his window down and headed back towards the Ice House. He would get it there and Fred could take it from there. No longer his problem.

The parking lot was surprisingly full when he pulled in. That was a good sign. Maybe Bessie would believe him when he said it wasn't as bad as she thought. They just needed to hold on until the tourists came. He glanced in his rear view mirror. Again, he saw one of the sheriff deputy cars pull behind him.

It was lunch time. People liked lunch.

He parked and hopped out, holding the duffel bag under his arm. He noticed a small wait near the front door and stopped for a moment to greet them, shaking their hands and offering them free pie for dessert. He felt a spring in his step. Maybe it would all be okay.

Inside the door, he saw Bessie at a booth in the back. She had a tendency to talk with her hands and was gesturing wildly as she recounted something to Pete the barber. He paused for a minute when he saw Joey planted at the bar between two boys who were a few inches shorter than she was, but remembered that state testing was going on. He'd talk to her later. He made his way into the small office to stash his bag in the filing cabinet before going into the kitchen. Bodie and two younger men were talking loudly as they plated food. He walked over to the pass.

"Hey, Fred. Take a break," Mike said, banging twice on the warm metal. Bodie rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

Fred followed him back to the office. There wasn't space to close the door, but Fred knew the

drill. He blocked the line of site with his body.

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed, "Every body stay calm. Do not move. Just stay at your tables."

Loud foot steps. Someone pulling Fred back, then pushing him against the wall. Metal clanking.

"Michael Potter. Drop the bag. Put your hands where I can see them," said Sheriff Witter who hand his gun at the ready. "Turn around."

Mike nodded, then slowly turned. He looked around. Bessie stood in the corridor with her hand over her mouth.

"I can walk out, John. Don't do this. Not in front of the girls," Mike choked out. "I'll go."

"There's a procedure," he said, taking Mike's hands firmly and cuffing them in sunwarmed metal. "You are under arrest for possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, the court will appoint one for you."

Mike stood feeling defeated. He glanced up before looking at his feet. Fred was being walked through the dining room as customers stared. He swallowed the bile in his throat. He'd have to walk past his daughters. His eyes locked with Bessie's. She had her mother's eyes and the tears her saw welling there were a knife in his gut. One of the deputies nudged Mike roughly and they started to move forward. His eyes shifted around the familiar restaurant. He had been meaning to clean the saltwater tank. He saw women whispering behind their hands. He dared a glance at the bar where his youngest daughter, the girl they had prayed so hard to come to them, sat wide eyed. Her mouth was open in shock. Dawson Leery looked crestfallen and placed his hand in hers. Pacey Witter sat on her other side, glaring at them, his face twisted with anger. He tore his eyes away and saw Marisa.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Mikey, what's happening?"

She placed a hand on his cheek, but the deputy pushed him harder to get him to move faster. He let himself be guided into one of the cars in the parking lot with blue lights. He ducked his head and the deputy buckled him in the back. They started to drive off, a car staying behind for what he assumed was investigation. The drive only took a minute. They pulled in front of the courthouse which was situated in the middle of the small downtown. The deputy opened the door, unbuckled his seat belt, and tugged his arm to assist him out of the car. He didn't think it was possible, but his heart sank further when he saw Lillian and Mitch Leery on the sidewalk. She was in a wheelchair, hand over her mouth like Bessie's had been. They were staring at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I appreciate your feedback. This one is a bit shorter due to time constraints and a small child who needs things like attention and food. I wanted to go ahead and get it up so I don't lose momentum. Enjoy.

Chapter Two

Bessie slumped against the counter as the local police escorted out the last of the lunch patrons and began to hang yellow tape across the entry way of the restaurant. Her head pulsed and she tried to make sense out of what was going on. Her dad was apparently acting as a middle man and using their business to get cocaine into the hands of small town dealers. She had lived in Capeside her whole life, save her brief time in Amherst. She didn't think she had known anyone who did more than smoke a joint at bonfires on the beach and that was looked on with some scandalized awe. She certainly hadn't known anyone to use something harder. Who were these guys even selling to? Her gut felt twisted. She wondered if her dad had made a phone call. Was it home? Had her mother found out?

She glanced out at the back. Joey was standing in the lot, kicking rocks around. She had considered making her leave, but she didn't want her to be wandering around alone. Sheriff Witter had asked Bessie to stay put while they searched the premises, explaining that he didn't want his people to mess anything up and make it hard to get back to operations. She kept replaying it in her mind. About he didn't even say that he didn't do anything. How Marisa, the blonde waitress who worked dinner and always left her shirt unbuttoned and reached out for him and called him "Mikey". How the hushed whispers about her mother seemed to be amplified throughout the dining room.

"Bessie, we're going to need to search his truck. And the house," Sheriff Witter said, standing next to her with his hand resting easily on the gun that had been pointed at her father an hour earlier.

"Do it," she said. "Um, my mom. She should be home now. Could I go and explain before you guys turn up? Let her know what happened?"

"She's already been to the station," he replied. "I don't know how she got word. Small town, I guess."

"Oh. Do you know where she is now?" Bessie asked, panic filling her.

"I don't. Deputy Johnson just told me she was aware of the arrest," he replied.

"Look, I need to get home. You guys do what you need to do. Can Bodie just keep an eye on stock? I need to get Joey home," Bessie said, rubbing her neck. He looked at her reluctantly but nodded. "He has keys to lock up when you're done."

She turned and walked to the back. Bodie was wiping down the grill for what was certainly the fifth time in the past hour. She appreciated him sticking around.

"Do you need anything, Bess?"

"Actually, can you hold down the fort here? They apparently have a warrant for the house, and Mom knows, and I really don't think Joey needs to be here," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. He dropped what he was doing and walked towards her, putting a hand on either shoulder.

"Get out of here. Take Joey over to the Leerys' or something. I'll make sure they don't kill the lobster. I'm assuming we're not going to be open tonight, right?"

"Yeah. I think we just need to give it a day or two. I just can't deal with all of this right now."

"I'll be sure we're up for the weekend, okay?" he replied. "That's when people really come and you're going to need the traffic to keep afloat."

"Ester quit," Bessie sighed.

"We'll manage. Just take care of what you need to, and the Ice House will be here when you get back," he said, squeezing her shoulders. "I didn't know. I wouldn't have left those guys stay on the line if I had."

"I didn't know either," she sighed. "I really just thought they were cheap labor since he wanted to cut hourly pay."

"Yeah. Well, I've got you covered. When I can get everyone out of here, I'll bring by some food."

"That would be good. Cancer gets casseroles, I don't think we'll have many drop offs with this," Bessie said, giving him an ironic smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

Joey stood behind the restaurant, kicking rocks. Dawson stood a few yards away making small talk to try to distract her. It wasn't helpful. All she knew was there was the whole of the town's sheriff department flooding her parent's restaurant after carting her dad off and that some woman had gotten way too close for comfort to her dad. Pacey took off running as soon as patrons got permission to leave, not saying a word. She couldn't believe that his dad was in charge of all of this. She didn't know what they were trying to find. It was just a restaurant.

"I can't believe Pacey just ran off when his dad started this," she spat, angrily. "He just takes off. I bet that's why he wanted to come along. He just wanted to stay long enough to see it!"

"Come on. That's not true," Dawson defended. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm sure that Sheriff Witter will sort it out. There has to be a good explanation for it. They don't just go around to local businesses arresting people. Maybe it's a bad prank."

"It isn't a prank," Joey said, kicking some dirt in his direction.

"Things will work out," he said. "They always do."

"Yeah, the whole sick mom thing is working out great."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, Dawson. Let's just talk about something else."

"I heard that Spielberg was making a Jurassic Park sequel," Dawson offered. Joey looked at

him and smiled. She could work with this.

Bessie stuck her head out the door near where the two kids were standing. She was so tense. What on Earth do you say to a twelve year old who's dad just got hauled off by the police? Part of her expected Joey to look different, like the stress of the day had aged her. She looked like the same kid she had dropped off at school. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, sliding down to the left side of her head with strands falling in her face. Her knees were still bruised and she had a neon bandaid on her shin. She looked fragile, and seemed to completely lack the windfall of maturity that Bessie was searching for.

"Hey," she said. "Let's get out of here."

"They done?"

"No. Bodie's taking care of it. There's some stuff they want to check for at the house," Bessie said, reaching her hand out for the younger girl to take it. It was refused, Joey shoving her fist of her denim jeans pockets instead.

"There's nothing at the house."

"Well, we didn't think there was anything here, either," Bessie countered, her voice unable to

hide the frustration and fatigue. Joey glared at her but walked through the door to the restaurant. Dawson followed without a word. The cops waved them past as the walked through the building, and Sheriff Witter opened the tape at the entrance to allow them to pass down the stairs. Joey got in the back of the station wagon and Dawson followed, leaving Bessie to play chauffeur. They drove silently until Bessie pulled in the driveway at Dawson's.

"I'm staying here," Joey said, jumping out as soon as the car slowed. Dawson remained in the

backseat, looking between the sisters.

"I think you should come home," Bessie said. "We all need to talk about today."

"No. I'll be back later. We were going to watch movies, right? Dawson?"

"Yeah. Movies," he said, looking down as a hangnail on his thumb.

"Joey," Bessie started. "I mean it. I need you at home."

"No. I'll be back later."

"I'm not arguing with you," Bessie said.

"I'm not arguing, I'm staying."

"Home. Now."

"Fine, but Dawson is coming," Joey replied, opening the car door again.

"That's a bad idea," Bessie said, hitting the steering wheel. The last thing she wanted to do was hash this out in front of an audience.

"If I go, he goes."

"Fine. Stay. But I will be back to pick you up tonight."

"Fine," Joey shot. "Come on, Dawson. We need to get the popcorn."

With that, Dawson slid across the vinyl seat and out of the car. Bessie watched as the two of them ran into the house, the blond boy on her sister's heels. She hit her head against the head rest a few times and let out a growl. She just wanted to wake up in her bed to find that this whole day was a nightmare.

She inhaled deeply and looked over the water. Geese were on the water. It was a still day and the fluffy May clouds were reflected in the water. It was a perfect day. Winter was always long and she usually felt relief as the heavy April rains washed away the salt from the roads and brought color back to the world. If only her life could be made new. If only she felt full of color and new beginnings.

When she pulled into the driveway, Mitch's car was parked where the truck usually was. She was glad that someone was there. She walked into the house, and dropped her keys onto the table by the door. Her eyes passed over the living room and saw it was in the same condition as she had left it. She made her way to her mother's cracked door and knocked. The soft voices quieted.

"Come on in," Mitch said, pulling the door open.

Lillian was sitting in the window seat with a light blanket over her lap. She had a full cup of tea in her hand.

"You were at the restaurant?" she asked, her eyes locked at something outside the window.

"Yeah. Bodie and some of the cops are still there. Someone else will be here soon, so I wanted to come back," Bessie answered, sitting on the bed. "Sheriff Witter said that you knew?"

"We were taking a walk downtown when we saw them taking him in," Mitch answered, as he paced slowly through the bedroom, massaging his neck.

"Did you talk to them? What are they saying?" Bessie asked. "Do we need to call a lawyer?"

"He wants to use a public defender," Lillian said softly. Her voice was soft and tired. Bessie looked at Mitch for more information.

"Right now, he's up on possession with intent to distribute. It is possible they will add a trafficking charge based on some other place in the warehouse district. I don't know all the details."

"What?" Bessie asked.

"They have him with a bag full of cocaine, packaged to sell. And audio of him somewhere else. There's been surveillance, I guess," Mitch said. "It's not good, Bessie. I'm no lawyer, but it sounds like he might be going away for a long time."

"He doesn't have a record," Bessie replied, gaping at the man moving through the room as he avoided making eye contact.

"I don't think that matters with this type of thing."

"Where's your sister?" Lillian asked. Bessie groaned.

"She, Dawson, and Pacey were having some food after they got done with their test. They were there. She and Dawson are at Mitch and Gail's watching movies. She didn't want to come back here," Bessie answered. "I don't blame her. Are you okay, Mom?"

"Not my finest hour, but I'm hanging," she said. "Does Joey know what's happening?"

"She saw everything. I don't know if she is clear on the details, but she knows what everyone saw."

"I'm going to give Gail a call," Mitch said, excusing himself. Bessie stood and put an a hand on her mother's shoulder.

"How are you?" Lillian asked, scooting her body to make room for her daughter. Bessie sat next to her and took her mom's hand.

"I don't know," Bessie said, softly. "I'm worried. How are you?"

"I'm tired," she said. "Really tired."

"Mom..." Bessie said, unsure of whether or not she should mention Marisa. She knew that things hadn't been right between her parents in a while. She knew what the lipstick on his clothes and the shocked expression on Marisa's face meant. But she didn't know if her mom knew. She hadn't done laundry in months and wasn't around day in and day out. "Do you think Dad would ever...you know...see someone?"

Lillian was quiet for a moment. This is why she hadn't confronted Mike. She knew that she wouldn't be there and she hadn't wanted the girls to feel like they had to pick sides when she was gone. Then again, after all of this, they needed to be able to make sense of what she knew.

"I know he would," Lillian replied. "I wish he would have been able to be here for me, but I see that just isn't something he feels like he can do."

"How can you be so calm?" Bessie asked as tears began to fall down her face. "How can you just wish it was different?"

"Your dad has a good heart, Bessie. He's never been perfect, but until this year, he gave me a good life. And I need to hold on to that. Being hurt and being angry aren't going to help me. I don't want to die mad." Lillian took Bessie's chin in her hand and brought their eyes level. "He's made mistakes. And I'm not saying that it doesn't hurt and I'm not saying that I'm happy about it, but I am saying that I have a choice. And I want you girls to know that my choice is to hold on to the good things. Understand?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Car doors slammed outside and there was a knock at the door.

"I should answer that," Bessie said softly, wiping her face with her shirt. Lillian nodded and

watched as her eldest left the room.

Pacey sat on the porch of the Witter family house, bouncing a ball against the siding. He was so angry. His dad had done a lot of things that he thought were low, but going into the Potter's and dragging out Joey's dad like a criminal in front of the whole town was just too much. He could see that Joey thought he had known something. She wouldn't even look at him and had just clung to Dawson's arm watching the whole thing.

"Pacey," Mary Witter said, sticking her head out the front door. "Dinner is ready. Please set the table."

"Coming," he said, shoving the ball in his pocket. He hoped that meant his dad would be home and maybe he could get some information or convince him that he was crazy.

He set the table with plates for his parents, Doug, Gretchen, and himself. He could smell the gravy his mom made for the pot roast using cream of mushroom soup and his stomach turned. He placed water glasses around the table, except for his dad. Sheriff Witter always had a beer straight from the refrigerator, even nights that he was supposed to be on call. He would chuckle and ask Dougie if he was planning on arresting him when his green deputy son would question. He swallowed when he heard cars pull into the drive way.

"Wash up. And get your sister from her room," Mary instructed, rushing to place trivets and mismatched serving dishes on the table. 

Pacey hurried up the stairs and ran his hands under a cool tap before knocking on Gretchen's door.

"Yeah?" she asked from inside. He opened the door and looked around the room to see if any new posters were on the walls.

"Dinner," he said. She nodded and switched off her boombox. "Hey. Did you hear about what happened at the Ice House?"

"I heard Mr Potter got arrested for dealing. I didn't hear any details," she said. "Do you know anything?"

"No. I was there, but it was kind of chaotic. I think Joey was mad at me, and Dad was pissed to see me there. I took off," he answered. He liked his older sister. Even though Gretchen was five years older, she never talked to him like he was stupid. It was an uncommon kindness in the Witter household. While Doug was constantly pointing out everything he did wrong, Gretchen would always mention and exaggerate his accomplishments.

"Hope for the best," Gretchen said, and led the way down the stairs to the dining room. John Witter was sitting at the head of the table, Doug on his right hand side. Mary was bringing them both glasses of scotch, neat. Not a beer night, after all.

"What's for dinner?" Doug asked, taking the highball glass from his mother.

"Looks like a pot roast, Dougie," Pacey said, sliding into the chair next to him. Doug rolled his eyes and helped himself to a roll while Mary carved some slices of meat. Once everyone had meat, she potatoes and gravy onto the plates.

"What were you doing hanging out with the Potter girl?" Pacey's dad asked, staring intensely at his youngest son.

"Having some fries," he answered, avoiding the stare. He popped a piece of meat in his mouth in hopes it would be an excuse not to give more information.

"I told you not to hang around her anymore," John stated.

"Was Dawson there, too? You know he'll go where Dawson goes. I'm sure that Pacey wasn't planning on it," Gretchen chimed in.

"I told you not to hang around her and you are sitting there at the god-damned bar with her," John said, louder this time.

"Pacey, tell me about your science test," Mary said abruptly.

"No. I want to know why I had to look around my department and explain why my kid was sitting there in a drug den with the ring leader's daughter. Do you have any idea how that looks?" John asked, pushing himself away from the table. "I don't just tell you things for the fun of it, Pacey."

"I-I-she was having a hard time. Her mom and all. I just wanted to make sure she was okay," Pacey said. "I didn't know anything was going on."

"You don't need to know what is going on. You just need to do what I tell you. Obviously, you aren't going to be the brains of an operation," John said, his voice a low growl. He banged on the table, causing Gretchen and Doug to both flinch. "I'm the sheriff. I can't have it looking like I don't even have control of my damn kid."

"I-"

"I don't want excuses. Just go to your room. Your bike is mine. You can go to school and you can come home. The porch needs sanded and painted. When that is done, we'll decide what else to do."

Pacey stood up. He was glad his mom hadn't made something he liked. He pushed his chair in and walked towards the stairs. As he passed John, his father grabbed his arm firmly and stuck the back of his head. The impact hurt and caused his ears to ring. He paused for a second, waiting to see if there would be another blow. When none came, he continued to his room.

Joey was laying on her back in Dawson's room when Bessie came. She had been hoping her older sister would just forget about her and leave her alone. She didn't want to go back home. She didn't want to stand around while people looked through rooms like they had at the restaurant. She wanted to stay with the Leerys. Gail had ordered a pizza from the new place that delivered and allowed them to eat it in Dawson's room while they watched Wayne's World. Dawson had tried to ask her some questions, but accepted her silence.

She heard Bessie making small talk with Gail.

"I guess you have to go," Dawson said. "I'll pause it and we'll finish it tomorrow."

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll see you at school?" Joey asked.

"Wouldn't miss it," he replied. He reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze, then awkwardly pulled away. Joey wiped her hand on her shorts and grabbed her bag from the floor. "Night."

"Night," she said, leaving the sanctuary. She felt a bit embarrassed over her avoidance, and slowly walked down the stairs in an attempt to hear what was being said.

"Here she is," Gail said, putting an arm around Joey. "Really, Bessie. If you need anything, please call us. Mitch's schedule is flexible, he can help with whatever you need."

"I appreciate that, Mrs. Leery. I think I have it under control right now, but you know you're always welcome to visit Mom," Bessie said, then turned her attention to Joey. "You have all your stuff?"

Joey held out her bag and nodded.

"You girls drive safely," Gail said, giving them both a quick hug.

Joey followed her sister to their car and sat in the front seat. Bessie turned on the engine and flipped off the radio. They sat in the car for a few moments not saying anything. Both glanced sideways at the other, trying to read the other.

Joey spoke first. "Are they done looking for stuff?"

"Yeah. I think so. They weren't at the house for long. And Bodie said everyone was gone at the restaurant around four. The truck is impounded, but we could open tomorrow if we wanted to," Bessie said. "Except apparently our business account is frozen. That kind of puts a wrench in things."

"Did he do it?" Joey asked, quietly.

"I think so, kiddo," Bessie answered, taking her sister's hand. "I talked to his public defender. He says that if he pleads, he'll get ten years. With good behavior, he could be out in five. If it goes to trial, he's looking at a lot longer."

"So he has to say he did it?"

"I guess so. I'm not sure what he's going to do."

"Does Mom know?"

"She knows. About the drugs. And the waitress," Bessie said. She knew her sister wasn't blind and she had seen the look on her face earlier. "She's strong."

"Glad one of us is," Joey sighed. "I'm tired."

"Let's get home. You have your math test tomorrow."


End file.
